


A Game of Chance

by Never laugh at a live Sherlock (smaugholmeswatson)



Series: Something wicked [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Character Death, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Sorry, Original Character Death(s), Please Don't Hate Me, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 23:26:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1960143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaugholmeswatson/pseuds/Never%20laugh%20at%20a%20live%20Sherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><br/>This is the moment Moriarty has been building up to it, the moment that will decide the lives of John Watson and Sherlock Holmes forever.<br/>Can they defeat Moriarty once and for all or is the consulting criminal simply too strong?<br/>The tragic conclusion to the "Something Wicked" series.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Game of Chance

I am going to die here; alone and without anyone knowing. This is the only thought running through my head as I stare up into the cold, dead eyes of Jim Moriarty. It feels wrong to have him here in the flat Sherlock and I call home. It's like he has violated some private sanctum that never should be disturbed. As though he knows what I am thinking a sadistic smile spreads across his face. I glare back at him but Moriarty isn't fooled by my show of bravery; he knows deep down that I am terrified at how I am completly at his mercy. Sherlock won't be back from laying flowers on his brother's grave for another hour or so and by then I have the feeling he will be much too late. Without warning a shrill ringing sound cuts through the uncomfortable silence. Moriarty frowns and looks at me with curiosity. 

"Now who possibly could be ringing you?" He muses. 

Awkwardly I shrug and wince when the rope around my wrists bites painfully into my skin. Moriarty motions for me to remain silent and answers it. 

"Hello? Moriarty speaking." He smiles and let out a high laugh. "Hello Sherly, long time no see! How have you been? Oh John is fine, a bit tied up but otherwise unharmed for now. Tut, tut Sherly no need to use such language... oh you are are you? Ten minutes? Yes I'll see you soon too Sherly. Bye,bye." He hangs up and stares down at the phone for a moment. Then he raises his arm and dashes my phone against the wall by my head with a mad laugh. "Change of plan John Watson, you get to live a little while longer until Sherly decides to turn up." He says, tapping a finger on his chin. "But how to fill the time until he arrives?" 

I close my eyes and pray for Sherlock to change his mind and stay away. I know that if he does turn up he will basically be signing his own death warrant. I curse my helplessness but am jerked rapidly from my train of thought when Moriarty snaps his fingers right behind my ear. I jump and he grins. 

"I know! Lets have ourselves a game of Russian roulette!" He cries gleefully. "I knew there was a reason I grabbed my revolver on my way out the door." With a flourish he does indeed pull a revolver out of his pocket. He spins the magazie out, checks it loaded and clicks it back into place. I let loose a stream of curse words which are muffled by my gag. Moriarty shakes his head. "Dear, dear John, your language is terrible. Because of that you get to go first." He says, levelling the gun at my forehead and pulling the trigger. 

I flinch but there is nothing but a hollow click. I breathe a quiet sigh of relief, releasing a breath I didn't know I was holding. 

In a single fluid movement Moriarty collapses back into the armchair Sherlock usually inhabits and rests his feet up on the table. He grins at me, as though he isn't playing a game where his life is at risk. Then he points the gun at the side of his own head and pulls the trigger. Again there is nothing but a loud click. "Two down and four to go." He says with a laugh, obviously enjoying himself. "Won't it be a shame Johnny boy when Sherlock gets here and spoils the fun?" 

As though on cue I hear a loud bang echoing up from below as the front door of 221 is flung open, following by footsteps thundering up the stairs towards the flat. Moriarty glances towards the door with a disappointed expression. "Damn." He murmurs. "And I was having so much fun." He aims the gun towards the door and I realise that there was more than one bullet in the magazine since not even a mad man like Moriarty would stake his life on the next shot being the one. 

Sherlock is the first one to burst through the door, his eyes wide and frantic and his coat buttoned as though in haste. He freezes when he sees the scene before him, his mouth falling open. Moriarty pulls the trigger and Sherlock throws himself to one side. Instead of hitting him the bullet embeds itself in the wall. Sherlock crashes to the ground, crying out when he lands awkwardly on his left shoulder. He lays there stunned and Moriarty walks slowly towards him, savouring the moment. Panic grips at my heart. I hear an angry bellow from the doorway and turn my head to see Lestrade chargeing through the door to tackle Moriarty to the ground, sending the gun flying. Moriarty cries out in anger but is unable to do anything to prevent himself from being forced down and pinned to the ground. With a quiet groan Sherlock picks himself up and makes his way over to me. He bends down and struggles to untie the ropes binding me to the chair. Once I am free he pulls me to my feet and wraps his arms around me in a tight hug. 

"Thank god you're okay John." He gasps, not appearing to care about his over emotional state. "I was so afraid when I received the call from Moriarty. I thought something terrible had happened to you." 

I reach up to stroke his hair. "It's okay Sherlock, I don't think Moriarty ever really planned on hurting me. He was more concerned with using me as bait to get you here." I say, briefly glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Moriarty was still subdued. He glares at me before making a small snapping motion with his teeth at Lestrade who is attempting to get handcuffs on him. 

Sherlock breaks off the hug and frowns down at me. His expression is thoughtful as though he has just thought of something extremerly important. "Lestrade..." He begins turning round to face him. 

I should have known Moriarty wouldn't be beaten so easily. One moment Lestrade is holding him down and the next Moriarty has twisted round, throwing the policeman off him, and has snatched up the gun from where it was lying close by. There is a wicked, twisted grin on his face as he points the gun towards us and pulls the trigger. Sherlock lets out a loud cry and throws himself sideways, dragging me down with him. 

Panic clutches at my heart when I see the blood. God, please no, don't let Sherlock have been shot. Frantically I inspect Sherlock for a wound, an entry hole, but I am unable to find anything. Confused I look up at him and I am startled to see that his eyes are full of tears. "What's wrong Sherlock?" I ask, reaching up to caress his cheek. 

He shakes his head. "I'm fine John." He says softly, resting his forehead against mine. "God I am so sorry. Please forgive me." 

Work in progress!! 


End file.
